Goodbyes
by DaDonut
Summary: Told from first person. China had always hated goodbyes. A nation can't die. Right? Oneshot.


Goodbyes

Summary: Told from first person view. China had always hated goodbyes. A nation can't die. Right?

My brother was always a compassionate man. Easily flustered, yes, but gentle and caring nonetheless. If he was in battle though, he looked like a different person, and acted like one too. His gaze would harden and he was merciless killer machine.

On lazy August afternoons he would sit on the porch and gaze at the pond, with I reading on his lap. I would occasionally ask him what some words were because his language was so complicated. He would smile and explain to me what those words meant.

One time at Taiwan's birthday, Korea had pouted and said that he didn't blow out the candles. China just laughed and relit them and told him to blow them out again. Happily, Korea blew the candles out, maybe a bit too hard, as he scattered bits of wax over the cake. Of course, Taiwan had a slight tantrum, but Japan smeared a bit of frosting onto her cheek and all was well again.

I had left before Japan's betrayal, so I didn't know about it until a day later. When I had heard though, I rushed over and found him laying wounded, with a toddler Hong Kong trying to get bandages.

I gently helped China up. As he sat on the stool, I ordered Hong Kong to go get a basin of warm water and a cloth. Carefully, I peeled off China's top. The cut was deep and long, and my forehead wrinkled as I thought of what might have inflicted it.

Hong Kong came stumbling back with the basin and the cloth, and I took out the bandages and disinfectant. I gently cleansed the area around the wound, and China winced, but otherwise made no sound. Hong Kong sat on China's knee and snuggled into him, while China stroked his hair absentmindedly.

But I knew, that the pain that he felt in his wound was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. I wrapped the bandages around his back, and took Hong Kong to the couch to sleep. When I came back he was staring at his hands. He slowly looked up at me, and asked.

 _"What did I do wrong?"_

Then he broke down and he cried. I held him in my arms, stroking his hair softly, knowing that his heart was broken, and there was nothing to do, but let time take its healing course.

Now though, we were happy as can be, our economies growing and cities flourishing. Every year, we all celebrated the Lunar Calendar New Year together. Every year at a different place. This year was in China. Thailand and Taiwan hitched a ride on my private jet to Beijing, and Japan picked up Korea. Hong Kong picked up Macau.

Meanwhile China was bustling around, cleaning up the house, arranging the guest rooms, and most importantly, cooking dinner. At the sound of knocks from the door, he flung it open and hugged us and showered us with kisses. (With the exception of Korea) He welcomed us into his house. Then he rushed back to the stir fry that was burning. Good times.

There was chatter, there was laughter, there were smiles all around. Heck, I think even I smiled slightly. Stories were exchanged, old stories were retold, and everyone was happy. After dinner, I shooed China out of the kitchen and called Korea in to help me with the dishes. It ought to relieve his hyperactivity a little.

We bid each other goodnight, and retreated into our rooms. I shared one with Taiwan, Thailand shared one with Korea, Macau shared one with Hong Kong, Japan had his own room and China did too.

The next day was New Year's Eve, and everyone cleaned up the house as best as they could, and helped with buying the materials for the dinner feast. Hong Kong of course, prepared the firecrackers and fireworks. Macau made sure that there were plenty of snacks for the poker gambling. Japan was scrubbing every corner of the house, even when China insisted that it wasn't needed. Taiwan and I went clothes shopping for everyone, and Thailand and Korea piled the presents high.

Dinner was a delicious affair, because each of us had made one dish from our country. We cleaned up the dishes, and stayed up late as we could, playing poker and Macau winning every time, with me usually coming second. At 11:58 pm, Hong Kong dragged the fireworks outside and everyone counted down. At the stroke of 12, he lit the string, and the fireworks lit up the sky with colors, and the promise of a good New Year.

I only now realized that I had been seeing him less and less. I used to live with him, now I visit him only twice a year. Everyone has been so busy now that they hardly had time for visiting relatives. Little did we know what was going to happen.

Japan fell into war, and China aided him. This was when the impossible happened. A bullet, soaring in the air, that was meant for Japan, hit China as he flung himself in front of him. It hit his chest. He stood there, swaying, with Japan terrified behind him. He fell.

Japan caught him, and cradled his head in his arms. Korea, who was nearby, dropped his gun and ran, half tripping over to there. China had a slight smile on his face as Japan's tears splattered his clothes. Korea fell to his knees and stared disbelievingly. He started yelling at the medics to come. Japan was muttering to himself, to China, to anyone listening.

 _"I betrayed you. Why would you do this?"_

China heard and he touched Japan's face. He whispered.

 _"Because I love you. Trust me, if this happened again, I would take the bullet again, no matter how many times, for you."_

Tears streamed down both Koreas and Japans faces, and they held each other as their brother was carried away on a stretcher.

When I heard of this news, it had been two days. I turned pale, and fell into a chair. My assistant stared at me, worried, but I dismissed him, and he scurried away. I knew, that nations were immortal, but that was only if they didn't get hurt severely. A bullet straight to the chest, especially where his heart was, is very dangerous to a nation. I told the new to Thailand, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau. They all rushed onto my private jet, and flew to Tokyo, where China was resting.

I could never forget his face. He looked so weak, nothing like the strong bigger brother that we all relied on, all looked up on, even if nobody said so. He gaunt and thin, with a tube running through his arm, and bandages crisscrossing his chest. His eyes fluttered open weakly, and he smiled through his pain just to greet us. I crossed the room in three strides and took his hand without the tube. I cried. For the first time since the Vietnam War, I cried. Everybody gathered around, and Thailand put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

China squeezed my hand weakly, and he told me gently, whispered it quietly.

 _"It will be alright. I will be fine."_

Taiwan was sobbing, and Hong Kong had silent tears leaking down his face. Macau took out a handkerchief to blow his nose, and for once Thailand wasn't smiling. Japan never forgave himself for that. Eventually China managed to persuade us that he was fine, and that we should get some rest. Reluctantly we agreed, and stayed in the hotel opposite the hospital.

He struggled through November. He weakened through December. But no amount of medicine or surgery could get him better. Even as a nation, a bullet wound through the chest could be fatal. The surgeries that they performed only seem to worsen his condition. Then, early one January morning, he slept. I dropped the phone as I processed Japan's words. No, I thought. It can't be. He was always a fighter. He survived millennia of war and now…

I flew over again to Tokyo and walked unsteadily to the room he was staying in. I opened the door, and there was Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, and Taiwan at his bedside. His face was so, so, pale, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was turned slightly upwards in the corners. The heart monitor showed a flat line. I felt tears streaming down my face as I walked towards the bed. He hands were crossed at his stomach, and he looked like he was sleeping.

I would never spend another New Year with him. No one would be so cheerful and be able to handle Korea when he was sugar high. No one would scold Hong Kong for setting off firecrackers in the house. No one making sure Taiwan's boyfriend was legible. No one to walk through the gardens with me.

I realized one thing as I gazed at him. One thing that may see so small and insignificant, but so big at the same time.

 _"I never got to say goodbye."_

China had always hated goodbyes. I reflected this as I sat in front of his grave, stroking the tombstone. In the distance, in the long lost memories, I heard his voice saying:

 _"Come on Vietnam, it's time for dinner."_


End file.
